Cry 'Havoc'
by alecsangryface
Summary: Alec's love for Shakespeare does fit the more gruesome aspects of his life


**Cry 'Havoc'**

 **A/N: Can y'all believe that Malec starts tomorrow. I'm very excited, which is why this got finished way earlier than I thought it would. As we all know I'm a complete slut for anything to do with Alec and Shakespeare, so here's another one. There might be some disturbing themes, nothing graphic but maybe uncomfortable. You have been warned.**

To Alec the most intriguing thing about Shakespeare was not how he framed a narrative, or how he captivated audiences with a rhyming couplet, or even how he portrayed characters so tenderly that those reading or watching couldn't help their desperation for everything to work out. No, Alec loved how he wrote battles.

As someone that could profess to having war experience, or at least fighting experience, there was something so beautiful about the words that made the most gruesome and horrific life experiences seem like the most glorious thing anyone could be a part of. Alec knew better, he did really, but it was his job to fight and kill. There were some things that had to be done to cope. That being said, there was something enjoyable about fighting demons and rouge downworlders alike.

There may be people he could trick into thinking that he was only doing his job, but Jace and Isabelle knew better. They knew about the way his blood sang in his veins with every landed arrow, with every slash and swipe of his blade. They felt the same. It might have something to do with growing up with distant or abusive parents, or it could be that they were so in tune to their duty that it had become a part of them to enjoy it. It was hard to tell.

Alec especially enjoyed it when he was angry, which was often. Whether it was anger at himself, or Jace or even the world as a whole; being able to sink a seraph blade into a fleshy target instead of a sand-filled bag took the anger with it, took all the negative emotions with it in fact.

Shakespeare only amplified this. There was a time when Alec first started to experience the plays where he thought he couldn't let them into his everyday life. They had to be compartmentalised and left for late nights, hanging out the window of his bedroom with a flash light. He did read _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ first though, there wasn't much about war to make him believe they could co-inside.

Then he read Julius Ceaser and his entire outlook changed. He didn't know what it was about the play that fascinated him so much. There was just something about how historical events played out that made it seem like the perfect story to tell. There was a lot wrong with Ceaser and the ending he got, he almost deserved. Maybe it was the sick sense of vindication that came with the ending that did it.

The first job the three of them have post-Julius Ceaser was dealing with a group of Ravener demons that were wreaking havoc in Queens. Alec may have used it as an opportunity to play another round of 'Get Izzy and Jace to read Shakespeare'.

"C'mon Jace, he writes about war all the time and it's beautiful" Alec had stars in his eyes, it was no secret to the other two how he felt about Shakespeare or war for that matter. They had grown accustomed to Alec's inability to display emotion regarding anything else; so they settled for rolling their eyes.

"Great, but he doesn't have the same flair a Dickens. You've read Great Expectations" Jace replied, he liked to bait Alec sometime, convincing him that he would never read a book, but most of the time he enjoyed engaging in discussions – and they were discussions, not arguments as their parents sometimes liked to tell them – about these things. Jace just didn't like how much of Shakespeare had to be imagined and interpreted. With Dickens it was a lot simpler, everything was laid out plain and clear so not to draw away from the moral ambiguity of the characters.

"You're right I have read Great Expectations, and I don't think it could compare to anything Shakespeare wrote" Alec fired back, leaning forward slightly in his seat, body swaying with the motion of the subway carriage, " _Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste death but once!_ Words to live by!"

"He might have you there Jace" Izzy laughed, because it was true, especially in their line of work. Isabelle often flitted between the two sides of this argument, Shakespeare versus Dickens; both equally good writers for their respective styles, but not really her cup of tea. Shakespeare was fun to watch, Dickens enjoyable to listen to, but she preferred to read Hugo. Victor Hugo, known for his love of run on sentences and needless information; but what could she say, Isabelle was a sucker for the love stories come political dramas.

"They are words to live by, but they're not _Family not only need to consist of merely those whom we share blood, but also for those whom we'd give blood_ ¸ I live by those words" Jace looked triumphant as Alec's eyes narrowed, he knew he had won bringing family into it; especially because he mentioned family without the tie of blood. Alec leant back in his seat, unabashedly defeated.

"You should still at least watch a play" He mumbled, smiling through his petty need to have the last word. Jace laughed short and unashamed, he would of course he would for Alec. Isabelle watched them with fond eyes, one day they would stop arguing about it and there would be a relative peace; she almost hoped it never came just so they could keep this playful blanket draped over them. It was peaceful enough for her.

Alec read Hamlet when he was falling apart. Being gay was not something you could be when your culture and heritage denied any mention of you, when your own father would spit on you if you ever admitted it to anyone but yourself. With it came depression, a horrible deep depression that made every day even more of a struggle. As if he hadn't had enough to deal with fighting demons and protecting ignorant humans.

' _To be or not to be'._ The most overused quotation in the history of half-assed intellectualism, Alec almost felt bad as he thought the words.

' _Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer'_ His bare toes hung over the edge of the Institute roof, a dangerous reminder that one wrong move and he would plummet to the earth never to be heard from again. Did he want that? Did he want to go along, suffering with the weight of himself every day? He didn't know.

' _To die: to sleep; To sleep perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come'_ Oh how he wished he could sleep, how he wished to be able to dream of a time or a place where it might be better. It was with a sweet sense of irony that only Dickens came to him now.

' _I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into a better shape'_

Hamlet might not have a physical, visceral battle, but the mental one was enough. To live or to die, that was the question after all. It was with Hamlet in his head, but Dickens in his heart that made Alec hop down from the edge. Just for one more night.

He was alone at Borcelind. He had Magnus sure, but Jace and Izzy weren't there; the two people he knew he could rely on when it came to battle. He had to deal with himself and Magnus. He could feel the warlock's magic crackling under his skin, unable to use it physically but drawing on it mentally. It would have to be enough. He smiled as one monologue flashed before him.

"What are you thinking about?" Magnus asked him, barely glancing in his direction as they stand rigid and united, watching the wave of demons crash towards them. An impossible fight to win.

" _We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. For he today that sheds his blood with me, Shall be my brother; be ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition. And gentlemen in England now abed, Shall think themselves accursed they were not here, And hold their manhood's cheap whiles any speaks, That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day"_ Alec replied, feral smile tearing up his once soft face. He suddenly didn't care about anything else that was happening in his life, he was back in battle, back being a warrior, he was where he belonged. He thought of Jace, and how he would probably have a Dickens quote to retort. He thought of Isabelle who would spring Les Miserables on them like all she was doing was reciting a long known fact. He laughed because even if he died on this field he would have achieved everything he could have hoped for. Except Max, but he couldn't think like that, not when it was so important that he remain battle ready. That would come later.

Magnus did look at him then, as if he didn't know what to make of the half monologue. There wasn't time to question it though because they were thrust deep into the fray of demons and deep into their minds where the only thing that mattered was survival.

It was hard not to notice how easily people fell around him, like flies dropping in the heat, except they tumbled to the ground with no elegance and blood curdling screams as demon claws rip through their chests or pointed tails pierce their stomach. Alec thought of Titus Andronicus, and his tribute to his own fallen comrades, a fitting monologue for the ones dying so that the rest could live. They would be remembered.

 _In peace and honour rest you here, my sons;_

 _Rome's readiest champions, repose you here in rest,_

 _Secure from worldly chances and mishaps!_

 _Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells,_

 _Here grow no damned grudges; here are no storms,_

 _No noise, but silence and eternal sleep:_

 _In peace and honour rest you here, my sons!_

He heard every word in his head punctuated with a corresponding demon body. Ichor covered his forearms as he demanded retribution from each one of them. He thought of Magnus, barely a step behind him, magic engulfing and suffocating every enemy that dared to step in his presence, and he thought that if he was going to be in a Shakespeare play this would be it. Battle with the one closest to your soul right by your side, he could think of nothing better.

He thought of Max the most though. How he never had the opportunity to join in with the elder three. Never got to fight beside them or fight with them. They would never get to argue over books on the subway. His blood boiled and he threw himself harder into the fray, desperation pouring from every inch of his being, desperation for revenge.

 _Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood and revenge are hammering in my head_

He watched himself with a sick sense of glee as bodies disappeared into ash and smoke around him, because of him. Alec knew he was going to leave this a different person, they always did after a battle of this magnitude. He knew it wasn't going to be bad either, he would be harder but softer in his approach to those he loved. If Max taught him one thing it was to cherish the time you had. He would.

He felt a ripping sensation in his chest, maybe his shoulder, it was too consuming to pinpoint where it was coming from exactly. He heard his own scream of pain in the distance as he whirled around to face the assumed enemy, only to see the back of Magnus, hair flowing around his shoulders as if controlled by magic. He only had a second to wonder if it really was. Then he was back to the fighting, the pain hindering him like no other had before.

With the last of his energy he thrust his blade once more into a demon he had never seen before and feel to his knees. It was almost over, he could rest. Distantly he could hear someone calling his name over the ringing in his ears. His vision went black and he fell forwards to land face down in the dirt.

 _He that sleeps feels not the tooth-ache_

When he finally comes too, Alec is very aware of the fact that he hasn't really moved. He's still in the dirt, just moved to his side so that he wouldn't choke on the mud. As his eyes blinked away the grogginess that came with being passed out, he can hear Magnus talking to him.

"You know I told Isabelle that I would keep you safe, I did not want to be sat in the dirt though" He looked as if he was attempting to levitate, he probably could but from the looks of the force field around them Magnus definitely did not have the energy.

"I'll buy you new pants if it's that bad" Alec groaned as he tried to sit up. The pain in his shoulder was especially concentrated now, Magnus was gently pressing him back down so he didn't hurt his shoulder more.

"I can't heal it" Magnus looked worried, slowly letting the barrier around them fall as the final demons were disposed of, they had done enough, "This will have to heal naturally. Do you think you can walk?"

"Yes. Just help me up" Alec smiled as Magnus grasped his hands in his, a feeling that he had never known before overwhelming him.

Magnus made to drop his hands when they were fully upright. Alec kept hold of one to pull Magnus closer, "I love you too you know, I never said it earlier"

"You could have picked a better time for it" Magnus deadpanned, but there was no hiding his overjoyed smile. There may be people that hated war, hated all things violent. Alec was not one of them, especially when it led to him kissing a very attractive warlock amongst blood-soaked bodies and pools of demon ichor.

There may have been somewhere more romantic to do it too. Alec didn't care. He was still high from the adrenaline of battle, and Magnus being this close to him didn't do anything to lessen that.

 _Worse than killing lust_.

Shakespeare did write bloody conflict well, but it was moments like this when Alec appreciated his uncanny ability to convey lust and love.

 **A/N: Please Review**


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